Coaster Ride
by LouiseKurylo
Summary: Lisbon's team is in a lull. But boredom leads them to find a case - and trouble. This is a typical crime-of-the-week story set in Season 2 of the series.
1. Chapter 1 - A Walk in the Desert

**Coaster Ride**

**Who:** Lisbon's team

**What:** Typical day at CBI, in a lull

**When:** April-May

**Where:** California

**Why:** Bored and outraged team gets itself work and trouble

* * *

Typical CBI crime of week story set in the early years of The Mentalist - Season 2. **In a lull, Lisbon's team goes out of its way to find a case - and trouble.**

* * *

The unit was idle, their last case wrapped up and no new case assigned yet. Lisbon was catching up on administrative work, Rigsby and Cho were out to lunch. Van Pelt was covering phones while Jane napped on his couch, having fallen asleep reading a book.

"That's terrible!" Van Pelt exclaimed, watching a news update on her computer screen.

"What?" asked Jane yawning and stretching.

"A group of almost one-hundred illegals died in Death Valley from the heat and lack of water. Even though it's just May, the desert's had a stretch of daily highs over 100 degrees. It looks deliberate–about as far from any major roads as you can get."

"Hmm. Death Valley is what–five hundred miles north of Mexico? Why would there be such a large group? Illegals usually scatter as soon as they cross the border. Harder to track and apprehend."

"Let me check the law-enforcement network and see if there are any details. ... Yes, here. 'Ninety-one undocumented workers were found dead in Death Valley on Tuesday, May 2nd.' Homeland Security has drone footage on a tractor-trailer traveling through the area's back roads the afternoon the illegals were abandoned there. The guess is the driver ditched them to avoid discovery. The plates and other identifying information were fake. The drone lost track of the truck that night. Nothing helpful on the ground, just personal effects. Oh, this is odd. There was a plastic product label found among the personal effects. They don't seem to have any leads."

Jane groaned and rolled off the couch to his feet. Bending over Van Pelt's computer screen, he asked, "Do they have a close-up of that label?"

"Sure. Here."

"What's up, you two?" Lisbon asked, walking into the room.

"Jane and I were just looking at the law-net post about the hundred illegals abandoned in Death Valley."

"Something is off about that Toshiba label," Jane said, peering at the screen. "The typeface is close, but not quite right. Counterfeit? Grace, can you overlay it with a picture of a legitimate Toshiba trademark?"

"Jane, you've memorized product trademarks?" Lisbon asked.

"No, I had a Toshiba TV. Got any pictures of the truck?"

"Umm, first take a look at the real Toshiba trademark compared to the label found at the scene. You're right–close, but not the same. As for the truck, it's a standard tractor- trailer–looks like any one of thousands. The plates are fake as are the company name, etc. Not much help."

"Maybe, maybe not. Blow up that picture of the trailer–the rear right corner. See? It scraped a building or underpass or something. That dent and torn metal are pretty distinctive. Find the trailer, maybe find a connection to the illegal transport and counterfeit distribution operations."

Lisbon interjected, "Jane, this is all speculation not to mention the jurisdiction of California border security and Federal Homeland Security. Don't even think about mucking around with this."

"A hundred people were deliberately left to die in our state. Negligent homicide at the very least, no? Why _not_ poke around?"

"I swear, your purpose in life is to make mine difficult. Let me call my contacts and see how the investigations are going. If they're hard on the case, we are _not_ interfering."

Jane grinned, "Thank you."

"I didn't promise anything. Don't get your hopes up."

~.~.~.~

Cho and Rigsby returned from lunch about the time Lisbon got return calls from her contacts. She gathered them around the conference table.

"Jane is bored–" Lisbon started.

"Hey!" Jane objected.

"–and wants us to look into the 91 illegals who died in Death Valley. This isn't our jurisdiction, so I'd have to keep border security and Homeland Security in the loop. They don't have a problem with our working the case, but they'll take part of the credit if we solve it. This is back-burner for them because of the three–count them, three!–major border tunnels that were just discovered for drug and weapons smuggling. It is completely optional if you want to help."

"I am kinda tired of sitting around," said Rigsby.

"Ninety-one people died in the desert? Why not take a look?" Cho added.

"I'm in. I think it's horrible," Van Pelt said.

Jane leaned back in his chair, smiling widely.

"Looks like you get your wish, Jane. I'll have the other agencies send us their files. Van Pelt, give us an overview of what we know right now."

After the overview, Cho commented, "So the three anomalies that stand out are the distance from the border for a large group of illegals, the counterfeit product label, and the distinctive damage on the truck's trailer. Not a lot to go on."

Van Pelt said doubtfully, "This doesn't seem like a typical smuggling operation to get illegal aliens into the US from Mexico."

Jane asked, "When were these people left in the desert? And what's today's date?"

"They were found dead May 2nd," answered Van Pelt, "So they were left a few days earlier-April 30th is when the drones were tracking that truck. Today is May 6th."

Jane, thoughtfully. "What if they weren't being smuggled _out_ of Mexico, but _in_?"

"Why? Especially such a large group?" asked Lisbon.

"Cinco de Mayo? People going home to celebrate," offered Rigsby.

"That'd be my guess," seconded Jane.

"Okay, working theory-the trucking outfit smuggles high-value counterfeit products into the US and transports illegals back to Mexico–profit both ways. Not as sexy as weapons and drugs, but I bet it's plenty lucrative," summarized Lisbon. "Van Pelt, check with US Customs and Border Protection. See what they have on high-value counterfeit products being smuggled into the US, especially Toshiba knock-offs. It'd be great to know the foreign manufacturer and the buyers, ideally with products, quantities and dates received. Ask if they know the trucking outfit, as well. Get any information on a disk so we can match it to shipping manifests if we identify a specific trucking outfit.

"Cho, Rigsby, see if you can find the major areas where illegals find work in that part of California. Employers won't talk. But someone in the barrios must care about the 91 people who died. Make it clear you're not from ICE. Maybe they'll talk if they know we're only after the trucking outfit. Somehow, we'll need to find that specific trailer to have any chance of making a case for negligent homicide. Homeland Security and Border Patrol might be good places to start.

"I'm going to call our counterparts in Arizona, Oregon and Washington state to see if they have had any similar cases. I'll also contact Homeland Security and find out more about the truck from the drone surveillance. When and where they started tracking it, when and where they lost track of it. Jane and I will try to see if we can pick up the trail from there."

"Why would Homeland Security be tracking that truck, anyhow?" wondered Jane. "There's got to be more than a single suspicious truck."

"Let's ask them."

The group scattered to tackle their assigned tasks.

"Lisbon, don't you think you're being a little unfair to lay this at my feet?" Jane asked as they walked out to the SUV.

"Aren't you bored?"

"Well, yes."

"And didn't you want us to take this on?"

"Yes."

"Then what's unfair?"

"Never mind."


	2. Chapter 2 - The Discovery

After several days, they met to take stock and decide the next steps.

"We got a few people in the barrios to talk. Once the illegals get over our southern border, the trucking outfit provides regular transportation around the US and back into Mexico," reported Cho. "Kind of an underground railway in reverse. It's so well-established that may be what's got Homeland Security interested."

"'US Transport' is a recent name used by the trucking company, but there is no such legitimate company," Rigsby added. "The name changes frequently. They seem to have numerous sets of plates, false paperwork and stencil-on ID's for the trucks. The illegals use the trucking company but hate it. The pick-ups and drop-offs are done by word of mouth. This isn't the first time people have been abandoned. Some have died on past trips, too."

Van Pelt summarized her information. "US Customs and Border Patrol know there's major, well-organized traffic in high-value counterfeit products coming up from Mexico. Some of the products are manufactured there, some as far away as Southeast Asia. There are many manufacturers so the key is the distribution–the trucking outfit and US wholesalers. Customs has given me data from raids on wholesalers in the US. But no one's been able to link the goods to a specific trucking company yet."

Cho asked, "What am I missing? Why doesn't Customs just stake out a wholesaler till the next shipment of counterfeit goods arrives?

"This outfit is smart," Van Pelt replied. "Once there's been a raid, it doesn't deal with them again. So Customs does one-off raids but never gets to the trucking company distributing the counterfeit goods."

"Jane and I tracked the truck to Olancha on state route 395. We also put a BOLO out with a photograph of the damaged trailer. It's going to be difficult for them to move now."

"The company may have realized it's identifiable and hid it. A well-established outfit would pay bribes to keep tabs on what law enforcement knows about their operations. The trailer's now a liability so they'll have to get rid of it," Jane added.

"How do you get rid of it?" asked Rigsby. "A trailer is big and you have to move it, risking discovery."

"Move it at night and then fix it–body work?" suggested Cho.

"If I were doing it, I'd just destroy it," reflected Jane. "Authorities don't have serial numbers or anything, just the damage. Damage it further and it looks like a different trailer."

"So where is it now?" asked Van Pelt.

"That _is_ the question," Jane said slowly. "It could be in a garage or even hidden among trees. But that's high risk because it would stand out if someone stumbled onto it. The safest place is among other trailers, probably with the damaged side right next to a wall. Safe till they move it. I wouldn't be surprised if it's actually at one of the company's shipping docks."

"So we really need to get to that company," concluded Cho. "A friend of mine is a Hispanic cop from SacPD. He might be willing to buy a ride on one of the trucks. He could plant a tracking device so we could find their shipping dock."

"Too dangerous," vetoed Lisbon. "A stranger in the barrio would stand out and be at risk. What about the people who talked to you? Would one of them be willing to plant a tracking device?"

"Maybe," replied Rigsby, "if that's all we wanted him to do."

"Okay. We need to find the shipping dock closest to Olancha and see if that specific trailer is there. We have to link the counterfeit products to the company. The easiest connection would be to match trucking manifests with deliveries of counterfeit products revealed through Customs raids."

"You know, everything commercial is computerized these days. If we get to the shipping dock, their computers would have routing, delivery and manifest information, too," speculated Van Pelt. "Give me five minutes and a flash drive and we could download everything we need."

~.~.~.~

The next day, Rigsby and Cho convinced an illegal to plant a tracking device on one of the trucks traveling south on state route 395/14. After several hours, the truck pulled into a fenced trucking dock and stopped.

"We found the dock," phoned Cho.

"I'll get a search warrant. We need to see if that trailer is parked inside anywhere. And, we need to download the routing and manifest information from their computers. Van Pelt will handle the computers. You and Rigsby will check for the trailer. We'll meet you at the local McDonald's parking lot at noon."

Lisbon, Van Pelt and Jane drove to the town and met up with Rigsby and Cho. They served the warrant and searched the premises. They finished in an hour, left and reconvened at McDonald's, disappointed.

"Nada. We didn't see the trailer. There were several parked against walls so close that you couldn't tell if it was the one the drone photographed," reported Rigsby.

"I got nothing as well," sighed Van Pelt. "Their system uses the same techniques as the CIA. There are no CD drives or output ports for flash drives. And I couldn't even photograph the computer screens because of screen security overlays. This isn't accidental. Someone knew what they were doing to prevent anyone from getting at their data. And there's so much data it isn't practical to copy it by hand. We'd have to be looking for just a few pieces of information–not a wholesale dump of their data."

"Couldn't we just confiscate their computers as evidence?" asked Lisbon hopefully.

"No. It's either cloud computing or off-site servers. They only have monitors on site. All the data are stored elsewhere. Getting a court order to provide the data on flash drives or CD's would give them plenty of time to modify it. "

"We can stake out the dock till they move the trailer. But we really need the manifests."

"That search warrant is still good, right? We could go back?" Jane asked thoughtfully. Lisbon nodded and he continued, "There may be another way. Lisbon, does it matter in what form we get the manifest information?"

"Not really. Customs is less concerned with bringing a court case than putting the illegal network out of business. They'd be delighted to know the complete wholesaler network so they could raid them all simultaneously. The counterfeit products on site would be enough for convictions. No wholesalers, no sales. No sales, no profits. No profits, end of smuggling operation."

Jane leaned back in his chair. "The manifest information would include a lot of numerical data, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"How much, ballpark?"

"Jane? What are you thinking?"

"What if I looked at the computer screens and just memorized the data? Numbers are harder–I don't have a photographic memory after all–but I should be able to remember a few months' worth. And I'm thinking they may have considered transporting illegals just another business line. If we're lucky, we might be able to link them to other instances of people who were abandoned and died."

"How long would you need? What else would you need?"

"If it's all numerical data, a minute a page, maybe. Quiet with few or no other people would be ideal."

"So two months might require an hour's time?"

"Yeah."

"Legally, they'd have to let us in. An hour isn't unreasonable. Their lawyers couldn't cut it short sooner than that."

"Uh, not to be a killjoy, but what if it's in Spanish? Does that change anything?" asked Rigsby.

"I read Spanish passably well. Memorizing is a little harder if the information is in another language, but not much. I used to memorize phone books just for the exercise."

"Let's do it. Jane, do you need to prepare in any way?"

"No. Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3 - Chase & Solution

They returned to the company, demanded and got access. Jane began his work while Cho and Rigsby guarded the door. The company's manager insisted on being present, although he stepped out occasionally. Rigsby or Cho accompanied the manager to prevent him from phoning and having the computer network disabled.

Forty-five minutes later an explosion shattered the afternoon. Cho and Rigsby drew their weapons and rushed outside to determine whether it was a threat to them.

"Damn!" Cho retraced his steps and tried the door. Locked. He kicked it in. The window stood open. Jane and the manager were gone.

Cho phoned Lisbon. "Boss, the explosion's a diversion. Jane's gone. Most everyone else is gone, too."

"They must be in a vehicle. They wouldn't stick around or try to escape through forest and mountains, especially with Jane. There's only one main road–you go west, we'll go east."

Rigsby and Cho took the SUV and drove west as fast as possible. They were quickly up into the mountains on narrow back roads.

"Look!" Rigsby pointed. "There's a semi ahead on that switchback. It looks like the damaged trailer we were searching for." He snapped photos with his cell phone.

"Bad news. They wouldn't take it unless they planned to destroy it. And maybe Jane with it."

"Dammit! Accident. Blocked!" Cho and Rigsby piled out of the SUV. The accident victims weren't seriously injured, but the SUV couldn't get around the cars. A sheriff pulled up from the opposite direction. The officers started managing the accident scene. Cho and Rigsby explained the situation and asked to borrow the sheriff's cruiser to continue the chase.

"Sheriff, do you carry emergency gear?" Cho yelled over his shoulder while running to the cruiser.

"Yes. Flares, medical backpack, crowbars, rope. The standard stuff. Hey, my phone number's 760-555-1734. Call and let me know when you can return the car."

They continued the chase for another five miles. Rounding a blind curve, they saw a section of guard rail was down. They stopped, got out and looked down the mountain. A tractor-trailer had tumbled a couple of hundred feet down the 45 degree slope. Judging by the steam from the busted radiator and smoking oil from the engine, the accident was only a few minutes old. The truck cab was askew. The trailer was tipped on its side, nearly upside down. The sides and top had massive dents and ragged holes where rough boulders had gouged the flimsy metal. Only the trailer floor was intact.

Cho phoned. "Boss, I think we found the tractor-trailer from the dock. It went off the road and tumbled a couple hundred feet down the mountain. We're going to check it out. ... About five miles past the car accident. ... Okay." He closed his cell phone. "They'll be here in half an hour, assuming they can get past the accident."

Rigsby winced looking at the wreck. Hoping against hope, Rigsby called Jane's cell phone but got no response. The phone was off or destroyed. "If Jane–" He didn't finish.

"Yeah. We'll need the rope to get down there and crowbars to pry open the doors. See if there's a flashlight."

Rigsby opened the trunk and collected the items.

"Does the medical stuff include a blanket? Bring that, too."

"I'll take the whole thing–easier to carry. There's one of those silver film things. Why do you want it?" asked Rigsby.

"Lisbon and Van Pelt will be here soon. If it's as bad as it looks, Lisbon doesn't need to see this."

They tied the rope to an undamaged section of the guard rail. They used the rope to keep from slipping on the loose rock as they made their way down to the wrecked truck. There was nothing on the slope, nothing in the cab.

"Driver must have ditched." Cho took a minute to call the local PD. "I need a search in a five-mile radius around this accident scene. ... " He described the trucking company manager and warned that he could be dangerous and the charge likely would be murder. To Rigsby, "Even if he didn't get crushed, repeated ten foot falls as it tumbled probably would be fatal, too." Grimly, "Okay, let's check the trailer."

The rear doors were badly sprung and the roof just beyond the doors was caved in to half of the trailer's height. They managed to pry open one door about eighteen inches.

"Let me. It'll be easier for me to get in there," Cho offered.

Cho squeezed through the door and ducked under the roof. The footing was treacherous, crumpled metal with razor-sharp edges where it had torn or split. Holes in the top and one side let in light, but the glare made it hard to make out details inside the dim trailer. Cho turned on the flashlight and scanned the entire length of the trailer. It was empty so far as he could tell. He noticed what looked like a mass of rags hanging above–it would be the floor if the trailer were upright. _Moving blankets?_ He couldn't figure out why they hadn't fallen to the ground. He made his way closer and saw they hung down in ragged folds, held by rope tied to eye-bolts where the floor and sides joined. They were a couple of feet out of his reach, partly obscured by the caved-in trailer side.

Cho climbed back to the trailer door. "Rigsby, does that kit have ammonia caps? Give me one."

"Here. Why?"

"Just give it to me!"

Cho took the short cylinder from Rigsby, ducked back into the trailer and made his way to the blankets hanging from the floor-ceiling. Holding his breath, he broke it open and waved it underneath. He immediately was rewarded with the sound of coughing.

"Jane?"

"Cho!"

"Yeah. What's your situation?"

"Didn't know it was you. I tied myself to the floor. There's a quick-release tail end, but I don't want to fall ten feet onto rock and sharp metal."

"How bad are you hurt? Any bleeding?"

"Just hard to breathe. The trailer side's caved in. I have less than an inch clearance."

"Hang on a little longer. Let me get something to break your fall."

Cho went back to the door. "Rigsby, Jane's tied to the floor above me. I need something, seat cushions maybe, to break his fall when I untie him. See if you can get anything out of the cab."

"How bad is he?"

"I'm hopeful. Let's just get him out."

Rigsby pulled the cushion free from the bench seat in the cab and shoved it through the door to Cho. After Cho positioned it underneath, Jane pulled the quick release and dropped the distance to the bottom. He panted, trying to get a full breath now that he wasn't pressed against the trailer side. Cho gave him a hand up and gripped his arm to steady him as they made their way out. Rigsby offered his hand. Jane squeezed through the door followed immediately by Cho.

"You lucky bastard!" Rigsby grinned, "How the hell did you do it?"

Jane turned and looked at the crumpled trailer. "Whoa! Worse than I thought." He shook his head, half bent over with hands on his thighs still trying to catch his breath.

"Jane, let me take a look at you. Adrenaline can mask injuries."

Cho found a couple of bloody scrapes from the sharp metal, but nothing serious. "Nothing hurts, no broken bones? You were almost crushed in there. No broken ribs?"

"Nope. A few rope burns. Headache and kind of shaken up. Got any aspirin?"

"Geez, Jane. You just used up another of your nine lives," Rigsby said admiringly.

Calmer and more sober, "Yeah, sure as hell did, didn't I?"

"How?"

The clatter of small rocks rolling down the slope interrupted before he could answer. The bulk of the trailer hid the slope and road above. Jane moved over to the corner in time to grab Lisbon's arm as she slipped on loose pebbles.

"Easy!"

"Jane! Thank God!" she exclaimed, relief erasing fear in an instant.

Van Pelt appeared a minute later, taking care not to lose her footing.

Jane grinned, exhilarated at having survived. "Whew! Some coaster ride!"

"Let's get back up to the SUV and decompress. I'll call the state police. Jane, I hate to ask, but do you still remember any of the data?"

"Probably. I should write it down soon though. Lots of numbers and it's been a busy day."

Hiding a smile, Lisbon could only shake her head at the monumental understatement.

~.~.~.~

An hour later they had returned the sheriff's cruiser, picked up the other SUV, and stopped at a local diner. After getting a soda, Jane separated himself at a quiet table and proceeded to write out the memorized manifest data. As he finished each page, Lisbon faxed it to her contacts at Customs, border security, and Homeland Security. He finally finished everything he had memorized and they left for Sacramento. Jane dozed while Lisbon drove. The others shared the second SUV.

By the time they arrived back at CBI, Customs had mounted its raids. Lisbon's contact called to report a successful operation that would end or cripple the smuggling network. Homeland Security was able to relate some previous instances of abandoned illegals to the manifest data. After the local PD had captured the trucking dock manager, border security and Homeland Security persuaded him to talk in exchange for a lighter sentence.

Lisbon decided the operation's success warranted a celebratory dinner at CBI's expense. Jane finally told his story.

"They were going to solve two problems with one move. Run the truck off the road to destroy the incriminating trailer and keep me from passing along the data by locking me inside. The manager probably didn't believe I had memorized so much, but he couldn't take the chance."

Cho. "Why didn't they succeed?"

"I spent my childhood riding coasters. I knew I couldn't survive a sheer drop. But tumbling a few hundred feet is different. Think about it. Fighter pilots regularly survive nine G's with contoured, padded seats. If I could get enough cushioning between me and the floor, and, also keep myself pretty tightly tied down, I figured I had a shot at surviving. The trailer floor was my best bet. Far sturdier than the sides or top."

"How did you know about tying knots like that?" asked Van Pelt.

"My carny friend Pete is a lead rigger. He also served a hitch in the navy. I spent summers learning every knot that exists. The trailer was used for all sorts of cargo, so there were eyebolts along the corner joining the floor and sides. It was recently used to haul people, hence the blankets and rope. The rope provided handholds for the illegals. I just had to untie it, then tie myself down. Easy and it worked!"

"Too bad we can't nail them for the 91 deaths," Van Pelt said wistfully.

"Oh! Almost forgot," interjected Rigsby. "I used my cell phone to take a photo of the trailer when it was on a switchback. You can see the telltale damage linking it to the abandoned illegals."

"We still have to connect your photo to the wrecked trailer-" Lisbon cautioned.

"Which I can do by testifying," Jane offered. "I got a good look when they shoved me inside."

Van Pelt smiled a feral grin, "Looks like some scumbag's gonna go down."

Cho sat back and grinned. "Bloodthirsty. You're coming along, Van Pelt."

"Jane, you really came through with the memorized data. We all just made Bertram and the CBI look good. That should redound to our benefit, one way or another. Well done, everyone. Oh! –Jane, next time you're bored, just stick with the nap, okay?"

"Why? It worked out and we did some good." He smiled. "This time it wasn't even my stunt. I was just minding my own business memorizing data," he said innocently.

"Let's just say you have a talent for attracting trouble. Our food's here. Let's eat."


End file.
